Page 39 of K.I.N.: Karma Is Near

Yo, I think I just seen your moms.

Same shit.

Different year.

I stopped giving her cash a long time ago. I loved my mother, but I wasn’t financing her habit. If I saw her, I’d feed her. Buy her clothes. Put her somewhere for the night if she’d let me.

But money?

Hell no.

Maybe that was why I never touched drugs myself.

Sold them?

Different conversation.

Used them?

Never.

I watched that shit eat my mother alive.

So when the state put possession on me seven years ago, that shit always pissed me off differently.

The armed robbery?

I could understand why my name ended up attached to that.

But possession?

Bullshit.

Always had been.

I shifted lanes.

Before prison, drugs wasn’t even the only way I made money.

Women had always made sense to me too.

Beautiful women especially.

Before I got locked up, me and my boy Tyler had been putting together something bigger than the little spots we were used to. A real adult club. Three floors. Full nudity. Beautiful women. Good liquor where legally permitted, expensive sections, security that didn’t play, and enough privacy upstairs that the right clientele would spend stupid money without wanting their names attached to shit.

Then I got locked up.

Tyler didn’t let the idea die.

That was one of the reasons I still fucked with him.

While I was gone, he took the money we’d already put together, added his own, handled the legal shit that needed handling, found investors where he needed them and turned the plan into Freckles.

By the time I came home six months ago, that motherfucker was already running.

Three floors.

Beautiful women everywhere.